


i love you and i'm terrified.

by songofthestars



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Established Friendship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthestars/pseuds/songofthestars
Summary: He disappeared beyond the window. Meg didn't know why, when and how, but she was sure she would see him again.She wasn't wrong.





	i love you and i'm terrified.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fic I wrote after a prompt ("I love you and I'm terrified") sent by a friend on Tumblr. English is not my first language, so tell me if something's wrong. Thanks for reading!

Meg Giry could scarcely believe her eyes. A dark and tall shadow stepped over the windowsill, asking to get in. Moonlight draped his shoulders with a silvery, sparkling cape. The young woman hurried to open the window wide and nodded for him to come in.

“Where have you been?”

He didn't answer. Meg noticed that he was breathless, almost like he had run miles to get there. Also, he stenched quite a bit.

Meg wrinkled her nose.

Erik set his strange golden eyes on the tiny blonde figure that, with her arms across her chest, requested some reasonable explanation; although he was much taller than her, in that moment the Phantom felt like stepping back. 

Meg had found him in a hidden dungeon after his lair had been invaded by the raging mob. At the same time angry and worried, she had required him to clarify the strange affair of Christine's kidnap – which everyone had witnessed – and the Vicomte's destiny. Luckily, everything had worked out for the best… except for the Phantom himself, that had cried all his tears at the feet of a bewildered and furious Meg. She didn't know if she wanted to embrace him or punch him on the nose.

Now, Meg could notice that he had recovered: despite the ghostly look in his eyes and the pallor of his deformed skin, there was a light in his irises, under the hood that covered half of that unfortunate, ugly face.

“I was waiting for you” Meg continued, distressed. Erik didn't answer. He just reached out a hand to her, and Meg understood. 

“Yes, now I'll return it to you.” 

The ballerina searched under her bed and pull out a half mask of untarnished porcelain, which she gave back to the Phantom. He took it without a murmur. 

“Don't tell me you want to go away without giving me an explanation.”

“There is nothing to explain.” It was the first time he had spoken since he entered that room. 

His golden voice was still cracked by the pain that he must have felt when he had let Christine go.

“Yes, there is, if you don't want me to punch you in the face.”

His eyes flashed while he put on the mask, but he didn't do anything. Not after Christine.

_And after me?_

“Erik… Tell me what you're going to do now. You're wanted by half the city of Paris…”

“I am. I cannot stay here.”

Meg's heart pressed in her chest in a painful grip. 

“I get it.” 

The young dancer looked at her tangled fingers, trying with all her strength to hide the tears that stung her eyes. In vain. Erik appeared perplexed by her reaction. He lifted her face with a long and bony finger under her chin. 

“You are crying, Meg. Why?”

“I don't want you to go. I don't want you to disappear from my life like this.”

Erik had always been part of herself. Since she was a kid, she had been under his wing, in a much less obsessive and controlling way than Christine's Angel of music. Meg remembered all the time spent in her room, when he would take the chance and get out of his underground lair to come visit her and read to her some books if she couldn't fall asleep. At the sound of his lovely voice, Meg would smile like a cat petted by a gentle master. And Erik – what was Erik? He could be gentle and terrifying, protective and tyrannical… Love and hate rose and fell like a tide in him. He was a poem of contradictions.

“I will go back to Rouen. It is not that far away.”

Meg nodded. Erik wiped away her tears from her cheeks. He looked at her with new and honest eyes: Christine's kiss and compassion had performed a miracle on him. He caressed her face and left a print of his misshapen lips on her forehead. Meg shivered with desire from that touch alone.

_I love you and I'm terrified. Please, don't go. Not now, you… you…_

“Thank you for taking care of my mask while I was… away.”

“You're welcome.” 

Meg hoped her voice would sound strong and decisive, but it was actually more like a bird croaking in agony.

“I am leaving, now.”

“Will you write to me?”

Erik didn't turn back, but grunted his agreement. A weak smile appeared on Meg's tight lips. 

“Alright. Alright.”

He disappeared beyond the window. Meg didn't know why, when and how, but she was sure she would see him again.

She wasn't wrong.


End file.
